Sweat
by RZZMG
Summary: When Draco Malfoy's co-worker, Harry Potter, catches him in the dressing room at Harvey Nichols sporting women's lingerie - a costume for a gender-bending party to be held at Malfoy Manor on Beltane night - the unrequited feelings of half a lifetime are about to come to a head... Post-Hogwarts, EWE 2010 . Draco x Harry/Drarry. Drama/Hot Shag! 2012 HP Reversathon Fic Exchange entry
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This was my 2012 HP Reversathon Fic Exchange (reversathon . livejournal . com) entry. The fest is over and reveals are out, so now I can post this for you here. ****This fanfic is finished. I will post a new chapter up every week until it's done.**

**My recipient for the fic exchange was: **_crystalusagi_

**Keeping with the theme of a 'reverse', and taking into account my recipient's likes/dislikes, this one came to life in my head almost instantly. Everything in it is a reverse – roles, genders, POV, etc.**

**A gigantic thank you goes out to my beta, Ladysashi. Thank you to the HP Reversathon fest mods for running this wonderful fest!**

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**DISCLAIMER:**"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**TIMELINE:** Post-Hogwarts, EWE (2010).

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter

**SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURES (alphabetical order, last name):** Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini

**SUMMARY:** When Harry Potter catches his co-worker Draco Malfoy in the dressing room at Harvey Nichols sporting women's lingerie, the unrequited feelings of half a lifetime are about to come to a head...

**RATING: **NC-17 (MA)

**WARNINGS:** Explicit heterosexual _and_homosexual sexual situations (including oral, intercourse in both genders, and loss of virginity F-M). Male cross-dressing. Polyjuice Potion-Gender Switch. Explicit profanity. Sexual exhibitionism. Alcohol consumption. Characters somewhat OOC. Wacky plot. Snarky!Draco. Leatherpants!Harry.

**IMAGES TO GO ALONG WITH THIS FANFICTION (remove all spaces to make URL load properly):** _s905 . photobucket . albums/ac260/RZZMG/Sweat/_

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**_SWEAT (ALTERNATIVELY, "CATCHING THE GOLDEN SNITCH")_**

**BY RZZMG**

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_**One week before Beltane...**_

My face was on fire, my blood pounded like a galloping horse in my ears, and the tiniest bit of sweat dotted my upper lip. I swiped a hand across it to get rid of the moisture, feeling my body flush from head to toe with an anxious, uneasy tension.

"I can explain."

"I bet you can," Potter remarked, an impish grin stretching his dimpled cheeks. His eyes roamed my body from head to toe and back again. "And I bet you really want to as well, just so that I won't run and tell everyone we work with at the Ministry that I caught you wearing women's lingerie in the changing room at Harvey Nichols."

I hissed at him, anger burning in my gut. "You fucking prat!" I pulled at the green, lace babydoll that covered my torso. "This Muggle shite-"

Potter's finger was suddenly in my face, cutting me off. It wagged back and forth in silent rebuke. "None of that. We're in public." He looked around, and then ducked inside the private changing room that I currently occupied before a protest could be launched, shutting the door behind him and activating its locking mechanism.

"Potter, what the bloody hell?" I snarled.

"One second," my former rival stalled me, reaching into an innocuous shopping bag he carried around and withdrawing his wand from its depths. He waved it at each of the four walls in the tiny cubicle, incanting a spell under his breath, and the familiar tingle of a Silencing Charm told me that they were now safe to discuss wizarding matters.

"Now, why don't you get to the explaining part," he insisted, leaning against the door in a casual pose that struck me as well-practiced and intentionally meant to show off his broad shoulders and tapered torso. It also caused his hips to jut out just the slightest bit, giving me an eye-full of the sizable package contained under the man's Muggle jeans.

I felt the sweat gather above my lip again and stared at the floor, refusing to be caught staring.

"It's... complicated."

"It always is."

I frowned at the odd comment. "Think this is funny, do you?"

There was a poignant silence and I could feel Harry Potter assessing me with those fathomless emerald eyes of his. "I'm an Auror, remember? In the two dozen years since the war ended, I think I've seen pretty much everything there is to see, Malfoy. This-" he nudged his chin at me, "isn't shocking, so much as amusing."

"I'm glad I could entertain you," I sneered, lifting my head and meeting his gaze. My anger erased my earlier humiliation, straightening my spine.

A smirk worked its way back up Potter's chirpy face. "So, 'Mister Brooding and Mysterious' is into an alternative lifestyle, then?"

Firmly, I shook my head. "It's this... blasted party my wife annually hosts." Gods, how could I explain such a thing to the Goody-Good-Of-The-Year award winner? The whole idea was perverse even by my father's standards, and Lucius' friends had been known for their rather bizarre games during their heyday. "It's tradition in Pure-blood families of a certain social status to throw a private celebration during Beltane. Astoria has determined this year to be a costumed soiree. Adult-themed, if you take my meaning."

Potter's eyebrows shot into his forehead. "A swinger's club meets a masquerade - that sort of thing?"

I _tsked_ and crossed my arms over my chest, feeling quite defensive of Pothead making fun of a tradition that hailed back to Salazar Slytherin's days_._ "Yes, blast it! It's a freaking fetish party, all right? Even through my wife and I aren't together anymore, she continues this idiotic tradition, making sure to invite all of the who's-who in our circle to eat, drink, and make merry for one night, all on the Malfoy Galleon. Every year is a different theme. She does it so she can keep her place in the Wizarding _Haute Ton_ secure. Are you happy now?"

This was the most I'd ever divulged of my personal life to Potter over our many years of working together, but what could I do? The man had me over a barrel - again. If I didn't give the irritating blighter some sort of explanation now, I was sure he'd spend the next million _fucking_ years of our forced acquaintanceship bugging me about why I'd dare to wear something this outrageous, even in the privacy of a dressing room. Either that, or he really would tell his friends about this little indiscretion, and suffering further humiliation simply wasn't an option.

Gryffindor's former Prince frowned. "'Not together anymore'? You're not divorced. I'd have known."

Rolling my eyes, I tossed my hands into the air. "Of course not, you inane gimp! Malfoys don't divorce. We're married, but living separate lives."

Potter's hips rolled as he straightened, and my eyes were automatically drawn to the movement, despite my best intentions not to consider the wizard in _that_ sort of manner. At least not anymore. I quickly looked away again, feeling the heat creeping up my pale cheeks. "In any case, she's currently with some Russian wizard, living in a private suite in London that overlooks The Alley. Scorpius primarily lives with me, but at this time of the year, he stays with his grandmother in Sicily," I finished, wishing fervently for Scarhead to leave soon so I could change back into proper clothing. I was feeling much too vulnerable for comfort's sake.

Unfortunately, as was typical for Harry _Lives-To-Stick-His-Nose-In-It_ _P_otter, the man just couldn't leave well-enough alone.

"You sound like you hate the whole idea, so why not just tell your wife 'no'?"

Was he serious?

"Good Lord, Potter! Are you really that daft?" I scoffed. "No wonder your relationship with the She-Weasel didn't last. You never tell your witch that she can't do something. That will only make her try twice as hard to make you regret such a foolhardy decision."

That was one sage piece of advice my father had blessed me with before being hauled off to Azkaban for life, post-war. My mother had backed the old coot's wisdom with a fervent nod... just before she left for the warmer climes of Palermo to hook up with Blaise's dad, her long-time secret lover.

Potter shifted, scratching the back of his head in a very boyish move that made him appear seventeen all over again. "That's not the reason Ginny and I didn't work out. I told you that before. Regardless, you never answered why you're wearing women's lingerie. Was it a dare, or is it a cross-dressing party?"

I turned my back on him, grabbed the hem of the babydoll, and pulled it over my head. "If you must know, this Beltane is going to be... decidedly different. The entire reason Astoria started up a potion's company is because she has an interest in concocting new and interesting draughts specifically for these events. It's ridiculous, but it seems to appeal to the bent nature of our friends."

"Give me an example." Potter was really enjoying this, I could tell.

Huffing a sigh, I wrung the satin slip between my hands in frustration. "Fine. A few years ago, we all had coloured skin. Last year, we sprouted different kinds of wings from our backs. That kind of shite."

Potter looked impressed. "Wings? That's inventive. What were yours made of?" He looked positively delighted. "I'm guessing feathers."

I refused to answer and humiliate myself further, so I ignored the question. "This year, my wife says she's finally perfected her _pièce de résistance_." Here I stalled, preparing myself for the laughter sure to follow. "It... the potion changes one's gender. If you're a man, you'll become what you would have been had you been born female instead, and vice-versa."

Potter was strangely silent, but I couldn't force myself this time to look up and find out why. I could feel the flames breathing at the side of my face.

"A gender-twist Polyjuice where you use your own hair as template?" he asked, seemingly intrigued, rather than amused, as I'd assumed he'd be. "Standard one-hour, or longer acting?"

I cleared my throat. "Twelve hours. By early morning, it'll wear off. It's not illegal." I felt the need to defend my wife, even if I didn't love her in a romantic manner any longer and I did find the whole idea of this party rather degenerate. She was still my legal partner and we were pleasant and civil to each other despite the divergent paths our lives had taken since we decided that our marriage would be one of mere convenience. "Astoria explained that the potion would be clearly marked, and that anyone who drank it would do so voluntarily."

My bitterest rival was quiet again, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

"So, are you taking the potion to show solidarity to your wife's plans or because you want to?"

Shite. I so wasn't going to answer that question and suffer the knowing smirk I was sure I'd receive.

"I don't think that's any of your business," I grit.

The low chuckle from behind me caused a shiver up my spine. "I think it is," Potter countered. He moved, and the air stirred around me, and then the skimpy thong that matched the babydoll appeared in front of my face, held between two of Potter's fingers. "Planning on wearing these too? Bet they'll be fetching, although you should consider a Depilatory Spell first. I'm sure your wife can easily teach it to you."

Whipping the thong out of the man's hands, I balled it up with the babydoll and tossed them both to the floor, feeling my heart pound again as the level of my embarrassment climbed into elevations I'd never experienced before. "Can you please leave now? I'm tired of answering your stupid questions and looking at your idiotic face," I barked, hiding my mortification behind anger.

I glanced up, noting my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror before me. Potter stood just behind me, and I could feel the heat of his body even across the inches between us. As he stared at me and my disapproval in the mirror, his grin faded away. A determined expression descended across his features, and his shoulders and spine went stiff with tension. "We haven't discussed the terms of payment yet. If I'm to keep your dirty secrets mum, Malfoy, I want something in return."

My jaw hit the floor. Was Saint Potter really pulling a Slytherin on me with this blackmail shite? To my dismay, I was getting hard at just the thought. Thank Merlin I'd left my trousers on for the fitting earlier, as they were dark and provided good cover.

In a classic distraction technique, I stepped to the side, turned, and gathered my shirt from the hook on the wall where I'd magically conveyed it earlier. As I slipped the fabric over my shoulders and buttoned up, I fumed with the knowledge that this wizard had me once more. Just like after the war, during the trials, I was at his mercy. He had never taken advantage of that situation back then, but apparently a dozen years of working at the Ministry had done wonders to corrupt him.

"Tell me: what would society think if it knew that the Saviour of the Wizarding World had stooped so low as to blackmail a former Death Eater?"

Potter sighed with impatience. "Can the crike, Draco. I'm not biting. I want the favour."

At the use of my first name, my head snapped around in astonishment. I'd only heard Potter say my given name a handful of times in our almost two-decade long acquaintanceship, and then it was mostly during my trial during cross-examination. When we worked together, it was always my cognomen he used. The sound of my first name coming from that voice made things low in my abdomen tighten with a powerful lust.

"What do you want?" I croaked, desperately in need of a glass of water. A bucket of ice down my shorts would have been welcome just then, too.

"I want an invite to the party, as your... special guest," Potter stated, and there was no room in his tone to brook an argument from me.

I swallowed the lump that had gathered in my throat. "This is a Pure-blood only party. You'd have to fake like you belong. Also, I'll require an Oath of Secrecy from you that is unbreakable. No talking to outsiders about what you see or hear at the party this weekend. That's non-negotiable." I turned my gaze back to the wall before me, tucking my shirt into my slacks. "If you thought to report back to the Minister about Pure-blood revels-"

Harry scoffed at that. "That wasn't my intention. Unless someone is harmed or dark magic is used, I'll be officially off-duty. I'd be going for pleasure, not business, Malfoy."

I fixed my belt and looked back into the mirror to assure my clothing and hair was presentable for going back out into public. "So, are you secretly into this kind of thing then, Potter? Is that why the She-Weasel dumped you?"

His growl of irritation made me grin. "How many times do I have to tell you? It was a mutual split," my rival commented, his tone and facial expression dark. "And yes, I'm understandably curious as to what it is you former Voldemort lovers are up to these days."

I heard the lock release on the door, and knew our time was up.

"I'll expect that owl with the invite tonight, or come Monday at the office, they'll be a new topic of interest on everyone's lips," he stated with a dark, rolling anger to his tone, opened the door, and walked out without another word.

I waited until I could hear his footsteps fade, and then I bent and gathered the babydoll and thong I'd thrown down. I bunched them up in my shaking fist and silently gathered my anger around me like a cloak of protection against the emotions sweeping over me.

Son of a whore, there was no way out this time, was there? I was going to have to give in to his demands and break centuries of tradition, or end up the laughing stock of the Ministry. Harry Potter had me at his mercy - _again._

Fuck, who was I kidding? He'd always had me like that... from day one onward.

Ruddy bastard.

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_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Please review! This is my first Drarry alone (just Harry x Draco, no threesome) fic. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**The night of Beltane**_...

I felt Potter when he entered the ballroom, his innate magical power a wave of light amidst the decadent darkness around me.

When I glanced around Terrence Higgs' broad body to scan the ballroom's entrance, my breath caught in my throat. My former rival was dressed in a black, mesh shirt and black leather pants with a pair of expensive dress shoes. His dark hair had been cut and for once, styled. He wasn't wearing his glasses, because the black, leather Venetian mask he wore made such a thing impossible. There was no way to not notice that his nipples were pierced with small, silver rings as his shirt was practically see-through.

He was definitely incognito; I doubted anyone here would recognize him, as his scar seemed to be covered by the mask and who would ever suspect Harry Potter of having pierced nipples, really? Besides, he didn't look as he usually did in either his conservative Auror robes or casual Muggle clothing, and always with the unmanageable hair and spectacles. Tonight, he'd had a make-over, and he looked elegant and predatorily sexy at the same time. It made my heart thump under my ribs and my body flush with heat.

I asked Terrence to excuse me and very carefully crossed the room in the low-heeled shoes my wife had helped picked out to go with tonight's outfit. Even with a week's worth of practice, I still hadn't been able to wear anything higher than two inches. It felt odd to have to think about how to walk like a woman before each step was taken, as there was a natural swing to their hips that men lacked. While practicing all week to imitate it, several times I was admonished by Astoria to concentrate. She'd continually reminded me that the walk had a certain flow to it and that anything more looked too exaggerated, while anything less looked too mannish. I still didn't think I had it down, but at least my attempt was better than Greg's; the guy still walked like a man, despite being a buxom, curvy brunette for the evening, and in heels, he looked awkward and ungraceful.

Despite my adequate performance, I still felt like a bloody fool as I approached Potter, especially when his eyes widened in recognition. "Is that really you, Malfoy? Wow, you look... Uh, what happened to the babydoll you'd tried on?"

I rolled my eyes. It figured that Potter wouldn't even know how to properly give a compliment to a lady – even though I technically wasn't one. "Get in out of the doorway, you knobhead. Your gawking makes you look like a bloody naif." I pulled on his arm and tugged him off to the side just as Marcus Flint and his wife strolled past, both of them in Roman-styled togas. I lowered my voice to answer his question, "And not that it's any of your business, but I didn't care much for the lower half of the costume I tried on, so I went with this ensemble instead."

A slow, devastating grin and an impish twinkle in his gaze replaced his dazed expression. "You mean the thong? Can't imagine why not. Must be the most comfortable thing in the world to wear."

His sarcasm had my pulse thrumming a little faster.

Right then and there it hit me: Potter _had_ changed. Something within him was different from how I remembered him being even three months ago. I mean, here he was, standing in the open doorway at a Pure-blood-only fetish party at _my_ Manor House, wearing an outfit that screamed, 'I want to get fucked tonight,' and he was being witty and mocking – something no former Slytherin in the room would be able to resist. I stared at him, bewildered, a tad aroused, and more than a little enchanted...

...and felt a panic attack coming on as a result.

"I need a drink," I mumbled. "Just... stay out of the way tonight."

I hurried off towards the bar on the far end of the room without waiting for his response, my mind too distracted by thoughts of those nipple rings to concentrate on how to properly walk or even to pay attention to what was right in front of me. Consequently, I bumped into Theo, who caught me and kept me from tumbling back on my arse. "Whoa, steady on," he stated with a girlish giggle. I stepped back and looked him up and down. He'd taken the potion, too, and to my surprise, he made a good-looking bird.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and extricated his soft, feminine hands from my arms, continuing on my way towards a glass of much-needed Firewhisky.

At the bar we'd set-up for the event, I squeezed in between Pansy, who had taken the potion and was a man for the night, and Blaise, who looked lovely wearing a woman's face and stockings. Both of them were scantily dressed and matching, as they'd come together to this soiree, and both were wearing a yellow leather wrist bands.

"Well met, mate," Zabini greeted me, slapping a delicate hand on my shoulder. "You look ravishing. I'd do you if my date for the evening wouldn't mind."

Pans smirked. "Who said I minded? It could be stunning to see you two licking each other's cunts."

I grimaced at the image that conjured. "Firewhisky," I ordered from the barman, and as soon as the shot glass was before me, I downed the contents in a single pull. "Another," I ordered, twisting the white band around my own wrist, feeling the cold dragon-hide leather slide across my skin, reminding me of my personal intent of celibacy for the night.

Beside me, my friends were silent, observing as I tossed back the second shot and ordered a third.

"You sure that's a good idea, Drake?" Pans whispered in concern, her deep baritone strange to my ears. "Girls who get pissed at parties don't always go home with the right bloke."

"Already home," I muttered as I drank the third shot.

Blaise took the glass out of my hand then. "What's wrong? You never drink like this unless there's something bothering you. Come on, being a woman for a few hours isn't that bad. It's kind of fun, actually." He put the glass down and fondled his breasts right there in front of everyone. "If I had access to these on a regular basis, I wouldn't give it up, in fact."

His long-time lover elbowed Zabini in the side. "You _do_ have access to those on a regular basis, fool. My door is always open to you, you know. Just not right now." She smoothed her big, male hands over her chest, and slid them down to cup her crotch. "Now this... this is an amazing thing. I finally get why men are always thinking about sex. I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I took the potion an hour ago. Is it always like this for you?"

"Pretty much," both Blaise and I answered at the same time.

"Hey, what do the coloured wrist bands mean?" the object of my continuing, ill-advised fascination asked, sauntering up behind me.

I turned and noted that Potter was wearing a white wrist band, too. I chuffed with dark amusement and grabbed his arm in a tight hold to lead him away. "Don't mind him," I called over my shoulder at my friends, "he's new. From Canada."

I pulled him off to the side where we could talk in relative privacy. "You're supposed to fit in, remember?" I admonished him in a harsh whisper. "This is a Pure-bloods-only event. That's been the rule for centuries, and we're breaking it by having you here. It'll start a riot if anyone finds out who you are, so you can't say anything idiotic to give yourself away."

Potter stared down at me from his greater height – a good head taller than me, even in the heels, as my body had shrunk several inches after drinking the potion – and scowled. "Then explain to me the purpose of this party and any of the customs associated with it, and I won't have to embarrass you again."

I sighed, realizing he was right. "The purpose is what I told you last weekend: to eat, drink, and be merry. It's Beltane, for Merlin's sake - a fertility holiday. What's not to celebrate? As for the wrist bands, they tell the other party-goers whether you're willing to... indulge... tonight or not. Usually you request your colour from the host when you walk through the door, but it seems my darling, little wife made the decision for you to keep you out of trouble tonight."

At Potter's confused frown, I sighed in irritation and tried again.

"White means you're not free to fuck. Yellow means you're discerning about whom you'll do and what you're willing to do, so interested parties need to ask first. Red means you want to shag your brains out and are game for anything."

To say Potter was shocked was an understatement. His bloody jaw came unhinged. "And your wife tagged me with a white bracelet? What the hell, Malfoy? I want a yellow one!"

I raised an eyebrow at him and smirked at the revelation. "So you _are_ secretly into this sort of thing. Who'd have thought: Saint Potter's a man-whore."

He didn't answer me, but his face did shut down rather quickly. "I'm not a man-whore, you prat. By the way, what was the spell I felt when your witch knotted this thing on me earlier? I know there's a charm on it, so don't try to deny it."

I snickered, finding vast amusement in my rival's claim to innocence. "There's a combined Anti-Disease and Anti-Conception Charm on all of the bracelets, just in case."

He examined his bracelet, turning it round and round on his wrist. "How long is it effective for?"

"As long as the leather band is touching your skin, you're under the spell. Once you take it off, the spell ends. No residual coverage or effects." I tossed him a mocking smirk. "Don't worry, Potter. You'll still be able to squeeze out another runt someday in the future... if you ever find the right witch."

My companion didn't miss the intentional jab at his failed marriage. His jaw clenched and his eyes sparked green flame. "Why do you do that?" he growled, leaning closer, backing me into the wall with a small push to my abdomen. He left his hand there, the warm core of his palm in direct contact with the bared flesh of my belly, his fingers spread wide and practically covering my small midriff. In reaction, my body flushed at his touch, heating by noticeable degrees. "Why do you always pick fights with me?" His other hand braced against the wall next to my cheek and he bent forward until his nose was practically touching mine. "Do you want me to hate you, Draco?"

My breath caught at the sound of my given name rolling across his tongue again, and all I could do was stare at his lips and wonder if they were soft as they looked.

_He doesn't want you like you want him_, I forcibly reminded myself, and instantly felt foolish for letting down my guard, even momentarily. "Bugger off!" I snarled and pushed him away, dislodging the hand that seemed to burn right through me and had made me acutely aware of my vulnerabilities all over again. "You got your sodding invite. Now just leave me alone!"

I stomped away, heading back for the bar.

Fucking Harry Potter and his fucking, bloody hands! I didn't want them near me. I didn't want them on me. And I especially didn't want the memory of the warmth they conveyed straight to my core as they pressed against me.

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_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

I hated that I couldn't stop looking at him. Hated that my gaze unconsciously sought him out. Hated that moment of jealousy as I spotted Potter through the crowd, laughing and flirting with one attractive woman after the other, and hated the quickening of my blood whenever he looked up from his conversation to scan the room and our eyes met.

I shouldn't want this. Correction: I shouldn't _continue_ wanting this. This fascination I had for Scarhead was bad for me, and I knew it.

It wasn't that I was upset that my heart pounded with lust for a man, as I'd rather _energetically_ experimented with Theo during fifth year in school, back when we'd both been fifteen and living in the same space in the dorms. My best friend and I had done everything you could do with another bloke, just for shites and giggles. Homophobia had nothing to do with my agitated state.

No, that I was still obsessed over Potter, even after all these years, was the real reason for my current distress.

From the age of eleven on, I'd made myself hate the dark-haired wizard with the distinguishing scar. In my child's opinion, Gryffindor's 'Golden Boy' had been simply too arrogant, too attention-seeking, and too Mudblood-loving for anyone of breeding and class to tolerate. He'd shown too much cleverness, charmed the socks off of the gullible, and smiled too readily. His goody ways, fetching features, and swaggering gait were annoying, and it was irritating how everyone talked about him, even if it was only to complain about his popularity.

That was the laundry list of Potter's faults that I'd repeated over and over again in my head all through our Hogwarts days to reinforce the reason why I was really quite glad we weren't friends. I'd even set myself up as his childhood nemesis to maintain the distance, just in case I ever did a little backsliding. The truth was, though, it was easier to think such things than to consider the alternative: that he was really quite perfect, even with his untamed hair, his foolhardy hero-complex, and his silly spectacles.

In secret, I'd lusted after him all through our youth together, even as I'd resented him for that fact.

After the war, I'd accepted that I'd been wrong about a lot of things, including how I'd felt about Potter outside the confines of my wank fantasies. It wasn't that he'd saved us all, or that he'd even saved me and my mother from prison that made me consider him in a different light. He hadn't actually done a bloody thing, in fact, to sway my thoughts. It was me. I had changed enough to notice that my childhood notions of whom and what Potter represented had been skewed through the lens of my father's ideology and my own sense of self-importance.

Admitting that had nearly undone me, because the foundation of my entire childhood had been based upon three very basic, fundamental facts: Malfoys were always right, Mudbloods were the biggest threat to our way of life, and Harry Potter and I were destined to hate each other forever. The breaking down of those three suppositions over a matter of only two years - that last condition, in particular - had spelled the doom of my entire life's paradigm, because it had forced me to face a glaring and terrifying truth: that everything I'd ever felt for my greatest rival had been nothing more than a smokescreen to my true feelings for him.

The fact was I didn't hate him at all. Just the opposite, actually.

The physical desire I'd felt for him should have clued me into that fact, but I wasn't capable of connecting those two thoughts together back then. After all, during those years I'd lusted after Pansy and Theo, but I hadn't loved either of them as anything more than "friends with benefits". Sex was fun, but there had been absolutely no strings attached.

That's why I'd gone out of my way since the end of my trial to avoid Potter at all costs. It was difficult to completely ignore the git, though, especially since some of his work cases required the assistance of an Unspeakable. By default, that usually meant me, as I was the youngest in my department, and was therefore often lumped with the tedious job of working with the public. More often than I wanted over the last dozen years, I'd ended up working alongside Potter.

For my part, I'd endeavoured to keep our contact professional, refusing to talk to the man about my private life, despite his occasional attempts to ferret such information out of me. Then, one late Friday night three months ago, we'd been stuck at the office finishing up some work on a recently-concluded case that we'd partnered on, and everything had changed.

Our final report on the Arpa murder-suicide had been due first thing that next Monday morning, and we'd spent the better part of that evening compiling our notes and transcribing them into the proper Ministry-approved format. Somewhere around the ten o'clock hour, I'd needed a break and had stood up to get some water from the fountain in the corner. Potter had accompanied me across the room, and we'd fallen into a surprisingly companionable discussion. I couldn't recall the exact words, but I remember he'd asked me if I'd intended to attend the next Quidditch World Cup. I'd told him that I did, in fact, intend on taking Scorpius to the next one, since it would practically be in Blaise's backyard, as the Zabini ancestral home was in Milan as well. He'd inquired as to whether Astoria would be accompanying us, and I'd flatly told him that Quidditch wasn't at all within my wife's range of interests. He'd hit me then with a winger that had left me reeling:

_"Ginny always insisted we go together when we'd been married. She has a thing for men in Quidditch uniform."_

I'd paused at that, unsure as to whether I'd actually heard him admit that the "Golden Couple of the Century" weren't together anymore or if I'd simply misunderstood his words. I'd known that I hadn't read anything in the news about a split, and it seemed something that sensational that would have been headline news for years or some shite, so I'd briefly wondered if perhaps there had been something wrong with my hearing.

Scarhead had noted my stalled reaction and had spared me further confusion by explaining:

_"Yeah, Ginny and I divorced two years ago. It was all very hush-hush. Only the family and our closest friends know. I'm living in a flat in London now, and she has custody of the kids and the house."_

He'd paused as if to gauge my response to that confession, but I'd been too dumbfounded over the fact that Mister Perfect had failed in something as important as his marriage to respond. Even my messed up marriage hadn't ended in divorce, just a mutual understanding that we wouldn't be fucking or living together anymore. Divorce was simply too final in wealthy Pure-blood families, as it tended to divide loyalties and assets - two things no one in my social circle could afford to lose if they wanted to remain in the _Haute Ton_.

_"We didn't end things because of cheating. I just want to make that clear,"_ he'd babbled on. _"We just didn't want the same things anymore. I'll always love Gin, but... I'm not__in love__with her any longer."_

He'd paused then, staring at the rim of his drinking glass in his hand, while I'd been forced by shock to put mine down on the desk or risk spilling its contents everywhere, so hard had my hands been shaking at his revelation. I'd held my breath as he'd bared his soul to me, and for the first time in a very long time, I'd felt my sluggish heart pump fierce and strong in my chest.

_"It was difficult to admit that for a long time. I've always felt a certain amount of responsibility for other people's safety and happiness, and I knew if I told Gin and our children the truth that I'd be taking those things away from them. In the end, it was Ginny who recognised it and confronted me."_

He'd looked at me then, square in the eye, and I'd felt my cheeks bloom with fire of his gaze.

_"It's been two years and... I'm ready to start dating again. This time, I'm going after what I want, instead of letting everyone else tell me who that should be."_

As we'd stared at each other, measuring reactions, I'd felt that nervous energy you get when you've found out that the object of your attraction is free and clear for you to pursue. My pulse had sped up and my blood had heated in my veins, drawing feelings to the surface that I'd buried far below the level of my heart for nearly two decades...

...and all at once, I'd been acutely reminded of why it was I'd kept my distance from Harry Potter from the time we'd been boys. The erection I'd popped in my pants as his attention focussed on me with a peculiar kind of determination had me so hard that my cock had practically throbbed. In that moment, I'd felt like a thirteen-year old all over again, desperate to hide an embarrassing and uncontrollable stiffy in class.

I think I'd mumbled something to the effect of _"you should do that,"_ but I wasn't sure, because an instant later, the Weaselbee interrupted, throwing us out of the moment. The ginger git had slammed the door open to the Auror office and demanded to know why Potter hadn't finished with his work yet, as it was their monthly pub-crawl. Behind him in the doorway had lingered a number of other members of the M.L.E. – Finnigan, Thomas, and a face or three I didn't recognise. All of them had egged Potter on, telling him to forget the report for later in the weekend, and urging him to join them.

He'd hesitated, as if he'd wanted to tell them to go away so we could pick up our discussion, but he'd also seemed unsure as if such a thing would be wise. I'd taken the decision out of his hands by quickly straightening up my paperwork, placing it in my satchel, and telling him I'd have my part of the report done by Monday morning, on-time. I'd made my escape then without even a 'good night,' moving past the pack of rabid Potter groupies with an annoyed _tsk_ and a brisk stride to get them to move aside. I'd hopped into an elevator to the Lobby and had taken the first Floo home without looking back once.

I'd thought I'd make a successful dodge and escape intact from that encounter, because neither of us had mentioned it afterwards when we'd casually passed each other in the halls at work, the Arpa case our last cooperative effort. I'd thought my ability to feign cool, casual disinterest during our brief encounters was proof that I was strong enough to overcome Scarhead's continued influence in my life.

Then he'd cornered me in that gods-damned dressing room at that bloody Muggle store, and I knew Fate hadn't finished fucking with me where Harry Potter was concerned.

Standing here, watching him flirt with all those pretty people in the crowd, considering which one he'd take home with him tonight was karma for all the shite I'd done to him in our youth, wasn't it? This was my just desserts for being too much a coward to act upon my desires that night three months ago.

The bitter taste of disappointment weighed heavily on my tongue and soured my mouth. I should have made a move on him back at Harvey Nichols. I could kick myself in the arse now for not doing so. Why hadn't I?

A little voice in the back of my head reminded me once again that I already knew the answer to that question, too: because Potter wasn't into men. He was as straight as a line that went on forever. I'd be saving myself a lifetime of humiliation by remembering that small, but important fact.

Cursing under my breath, I resigned myself to the foregone conclusion that nothing would ever happen between Harry Potter and me, even with me looking like a woman for the night. I'd have to content myself with my imaginative fantasies, and find a way to get over these unrequited feelings. Someday, maybe.

I wiped the sweat off of the nape of my neck, unused to the drape of hair that fell down my back as a heavy swath of platinum curls, and fought off the jealous surge in my gut as I watched him bend his head towards Flora Carrow, giving her the same charming smile he'd given me earlier. That smile was going to haunt my dreams tonight, I just knew it.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Build up! Build up! Angst. Angst. Angst. :)**

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take long for the party to get into full swing. A couple of glasses of the finest top-shelf liquors to break the ice and the stiff, formal veneer of most Pure-bloods slipped away, revealing their true ambitious, slippery natures.

It began with a 'Red' Hestia Carrow letting an equally 'Red' Adrian Pucey go down on her... right in the middle of the room, for all to witness. On his knees before her, her heeled stiletto resting on his shoulder and her skimpy knickers pushed to the side, my former dorm-mate did an admirable job of making my former Housemate moan and cry out as his tongue delved into her curl-shrouded depths and lapped up her juices.

"And so it begins," Zabini pronounced, even as we watched from the safety of the bar area as a 'Yellow' Theodore Nott in female form approached the witch from behind and took down Carrow's brassiere, fondling her tits.

After that, it was like sharks to bait. Practically every woman wearing a yellow bracelet was approached and asked her preferences. Those wearing red bracelets were simply taken into someone's arms or pinned against the wall or bent over some piece of furniture in the room without such coy discussion. Wizards and witches alike writhed as they partook of each other without a care for the indecency or the exploitive nature of the event. The sounds and scent of sex soon filled the air.

I sighed as I spied Astoria standing smack in the middle of it all, some Durmstrang wizard fingering her pussy from behind, while she sucked eagerly upon some French git's cock.

This was why we hadn't worked out. My wife enjoyed variety as much as she did exhibitionism. It was also the reason we kept hosting these blasted parties year after year - and why we attended the Samhain one hosted annually by the French git currently getting blown by my wife. These events were the perfect venue for every member of the _Haute Ton_ to get his or her fill and say later that it was all legitimate, seeing as how such behaviour was tradition.

"Christ, I can't do this tonight," I growled, signalling to the bartender for another Firewhisky.

I froze when I turned back, my refreshed drink only half-way to my lips as I spied my sister-in-law secluded in a private corner of the room, chatting up Potter.

No, Daphne was more than chatting him up, she was eyeing him like he was a Blood Pop and she wanted a nice, long lick. She was wearing a yellow bracelet, and was obviously making her preferences clear. Her hands were on his chest, roving over those well-defined pectorals of his, her gold-painted nails rasping against the mesh of his shirt. When she played with his nipple rings, his head jerked back. The flush of desire blazed up his throat, and around the edges of his mask. I could see how red his cheeks were from clear across the room. His tongue swiped across his lips in the universal sign of arousal.

I slammed down my shot glass. "Hell, no," I snarled, and stalked across the room towards them.

By the time I was three-quarters of the way there, I decided a shouted confrontation would be a bad idea, as it would draw everyone's attention. If Potter were 'outed' here, our family's reputation would be in shreds. Astoria and I had spent years rebuilding the trust of these people after the fiasco of the war, and I'd be damned if I let Lightning Bolt Brain jeopardize our position back at the top of society now.

I veered off, heading for the appetizer table, partaking of the fruit plate's choice bits as I considered my options. I could always pull the old _"oops, how clumsy of me - I spilled my drink on you,"_ trick that I'd seen my wife expertly employ on more than one occasion to scare off an annoying suitor. That might pry my SIL off of him as he headed into the loo to clean up.

No, bad plan. If there was one thing I knew about Daphne, it was that she was persistent when she wanted something. She'd probably just follow Scarhead into the bathroom and they'd end up fucking in front of the mirror. Nix that idea.

Option two was that I saunter up to them and pull Daphne into a ravenous kiss right in front of him. It wasn't like we hadn't done that - and more - before. Besides, much like Pansy, Daph had commented at the start of the evening that if I wanted to try it 'girl-style,' she'd be game. And honestly, the idea of cock-blocking Potter was immensely satisfying.

The perfect plan.

Finishing off a strawberry, I put an intentional swing in my hips and headed over to where The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Irritate was standing. His hands rested calmly at his sides, but my wife's older sibling was leaning into him, her face tilted towards his, a desperate yearning in her eyes. I came along side them, reached out, and used two fingers to turn her head in my direction.

"Now, now, Daph," I chided, putting some husky heat into my tone. "He's a White, and you know better. Why don't you focus on someone more... available?"

Her gaze turned to my wrist, noting the colour of my bracelet. "But you're White too, darling," she pointed out.

I gave her a melting smirk. "Ah, but I've been known to be contrary."

With that, I drew her away from Potter and into my arms. My mouth met hers as we were the same height, and I kissed her with seductive grace, thrusting my tongue into her mouth and teasing hers to come out and play. It was all expert acting on my part; I was able to convince my partner that I was interested, while keeping my heart and my libido far, far away from what we were doing.

There was no heat from me for Daphne. I'd had her once, a few years ago, while my wife frigged herself watching the show, and it hadn't been a good experience. I'd done it because I'd been stupid and horny, and because Astoria had threatened to withhold sex from me for the remainder of that week if I didn't fuck her sister in front of her first. I'd done a lot of wicked shite early in my marriage at my wife's behest, but that had been the last straw in our marriage. I'd felt dirty in the afters, used, and it had taken four years - and a complete avoidance of Astoria's bed - to feel clean again. That's why I was a White now at all of these parties.

Bottom line: I may dress in whatever costume my wife had imagined-up for the Season to go along with her plans, and I may mingle at these gatherings to appear as if we were a united force, but it was only so my family didn't lose its place in the _Haute Ton_. It had taken years to crawl out of the social mire after the war and to regain our status, and I didn't intend to lose that regained popularity simply because I disagreed with my wife's polyamorous and incestuous lifestyle.

My slaggy sister-in-law moaned like a hedge whore and melted into my embrace as the kiss continued. I pulled back then before things became too intense, giving a final nip to her fleshy, bottom lip. "Go play elsewhere and leave this one be, luv," I instructed her.

She sighed in disappointment. "You sure I can't convince you to let me eat you tonight?"

With sham regret, I shook my head. "'Fraid not, mink." I swatted her backside. "Theo's taken the potion, though. Why not see if you can get in on some rug munching with your ex while he's masquerading as a 'her'? He's a Yellow tonight, same as you."

Her eyes brightened. "What a splendid idea! Thanks for the tip." She hurried off, waving to me over her shoulder.

Adopting a triumphant pose, complete with a hand on my hip, I turned a smug smirk on my rival. "Tsk, tsk. You almost broke the rules, Potter. Good thing I was there to save you."

"Are you my keeper, then?" He sounded remarkably unfazed. In fact, by the twitch at the corner of his mouth, I'd say he was slightly amused rather than annoyed by my antics. "I _am_ your 'special guest' tonight. You might even say that makes me your date."

I lifted my chin and sniffed with disdain, putting as much scorn as I could into my expression and voice. "You may have weaselled an invitation to this thing tonight, but they'll be no fucking around for you with anyone here. Not in my house."

Leaning back against the wall, Potter folded his arms over his broad chest and grinned at me, completely undaunted by the implications of my vow. "Bet me on it," he replied, tossing the gauntlet at my feet.

I didn't like how superior he was acting. I didn't like how sexy he looked as he casually goaded me. I didn't like that he was clearly sporting an erection under those leather pants, and I absolutely hated that I wondered what it would look like if set free.

Through clenched teeth I hissed at him, then turned and started to walk away. His hand on my arm pulled me to a stop. I stared daggers at him as he closed the space between us, looming over me. "If I'm not getting any tonight, Malfoy, then neither are you," he declared.

I yanked free of his hold and sneered up at him before turning away and heading back for the bar.

"You can book promise on that," he called to my retreating figure.

I flipped him the two-fingered salute behind my shoulder and kept going. His laughter followed me across the room.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Short chapter, but important to character development. More fun to follow! Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

"So, who is he?" Pansy asked, changing Zabini's bracelet colour to red with a wave of her wand when the she-male wasn't looking.

I ignored the question for the moment, nibbling on the last bite of coconut-pineapple cake on my plate. Astoria had had my favourite dessert Floo'd in that morning from Hawaii as a bribe for good behaviour tonight. It's delicate, sweet and nutty flavour danced across my tongue, and I waited for the taste to fade before speaking, wanting to savour it.

"Who?"

I knew who my ex-girlfriend was referring to, of course, but I wanted to seem indifferent to the irritating git who had spent the last two hours staring at me and assuring that anyone with designs on me found something else to do that was a more profitable use of their time.

Parkinson slapped me with a meaty, male hand. "Tall, dark, presumably handsome, and insanely jealous where you're concerned, that's who. The fellow who's chased off every male and female who has come within a foot of you tonight." She gave me a sly glance. "The one you're lusting after, although you refuse to admit it."

I snorted in a rather unladylike manner and passed my empty plate off to one of the Squib servants that had replaced our former servants after Granger's inconvenient House-Elf Rights Bill had passed the Minister's desk six years prior. The servants had all taken the Oath of Silence about tonight's event as a condition of their employment, so I didn't worry they'd repeat anything said in their presence later, nor that they would report to others outside of tonight's event what happened between the four walls of the Manor House.

"I think the potion affected more than your outward appearance, Pans."

"Maybe it did," she admitted. "I've got to admit that every since I grew a prick I've been thinking naughty thoughts about you."

I laughed. "You've always thought naughty things about me. You have since we were six and you showed me yours while begging to see mine."

"True," my friend admitted. "And I think I'd love to see more of yours now."

In a quick move I hadn't anticipated, Pansy was on her knees in front of me, pulling my skirt up and my knickers to the side. Quickly, I closed my legs and used my hands to run interference. "Knock it off! I'm White tonight!"

"Not right now you're not," she pointed out, gripping the wrist where my bracelet had been secured and bringing it up between us. Its yellow was a sickly contrast against the backdrop of my pale skin.

Shite, I'd forgotten that I earlier changed the colour of my bracelet just to keep Potter running interference. At the time, I'd thought that a terribly clever ruse; he couldn't possibly get laid being so busy fighting off my suitors - those men who hadn't a clue who I really was under the potion's illusion. I hadn't really considered the side-effects of that plan, however. Like this. Who could have foreseen that Pansy would take that false, glowing beacon as her personal permission slip?

"You've advertised that you're open for business for the right price, and you owe me for agreeing to let Astoria use me to test out this potion last week. I'm calling in the favour now: I want a taste of your girly-ness, Drake, so stop telling me 'no'." She reached for my skirt again.

I brought a knee up to block her and side-stepped. "Bitch, don't touch me!"

She laughed and got to her feet. "You've become a prude in your old age, lover boy." Turning to Zabini, she grinned. "Is he standing behind me yet?"

"Yep," the Italian answered, leaning back into the bar with a huge grin plastered to his sultry, feminine features.

"Told you so," she sing-songed in a man's timbre. "You owe me a cock sucking tonight, baby."

"Can this be a case of you licking mine, if I lick yours, since the showing thing has already been done?" he teased, his effeminate voice dropping into a sultry 'come-hither' tone. He released the bracelet from his wrist and dropped it on the bar behind him.

Pansy's dark, thick, very manly eyebrows waggled as she mirrored her lover's gesture, removing the magically bespelled bracelet from her person as well. "You're on. Shall we?" She held her hand out to her beau, and then slapped me on the shoulder again in farewell. "You're welcome, Drake. I'll want all the gossip tomorrow, of course."

With that, my two friends left the party to seek their entertainment elsewhere.

Potter stared at me, and it was difficult to interpret the look, especially with the mask in the way. Was he annoyed that he'd had to walk across the room again just to make sure I was as miserable as he was?

"I should have let her, just to embarrass you," he stated, unexpectedly calm.

I crossed my arms and took up a defensive stance. "I might have enjoyed it."

He made a dismissive noise. "Right, because 'bitch, don't touch me' sounds an awful lot like, 'give it to me hot and hard'."

My heart started racing again. Damn, but the bastard looked good dripping with sarcasm.

"I told you already: where my sexual interests lie isn't any of your business," I snapped, attempting to drown out my incessant attraction with spitefulness.

Faster than I expected, Potter was in my face. "See, that's where you're wrong, Draco," he murmured in my ear, his words ghosting over my skin with heat.

I side-stepped and backpedalled quickly until I hit one of the floor-to-ceiling windows in the room and could go no further. My pursuer was undaunted; he prowled into my private space, giving me no chance to counter him as he reached out and gripped my hips in a firm hold. Before I could stop him, his mouth was on my throat, and he was sinking his teeth into the tender skin above my pulse. He didn't draw blood, but his mouth stayed there, locked onto me with unspoken intent, even while he smoothed his fingers up my bared waist in a slow ascent.

"Don't," I whispered the automatic protest, even as the traitorous body I inhabited for the night reacted to him, going tight and wet, moving of its own accord to fit against his curves. My fingernails scratched the glass behind me as I sought to anchor my mind to the world, even as my senses reeled.

This wasn't possible. He was... we were... I never thought he'd look at me as I'd always secretly looked at him. I never thought he'd want me like this back.

That he did terrified me.

He pulled his mouth away, but that was all the ground he gave. "I've been patiently waiting for you to make a move for the last two years, Draco, but you never have," he admitted in a voice thick with husky desire. "I've watched you as we've worked alongside each other and bided my time, but you constantly denied what was obviously between us. Do you realize how infuriatingly stubborn you are?" He laid a very soft, tender kiss against the corner of my mouth to take away the sting of his censure. "Three months ago I even came out and told you I was available, but you didn't take the bait." He ran his roaming hand under the curve of my body's female breasts, grazing the underside and making my breath catch. "So, I decided last week I'd had enough of waiting."

Raising his lips to buzz over the whorl of my ear, he whispered, "I followed you to Harvey Nichols. I knew about this party before you ever said a word. An Invisibility Cloak is a great way to eavesdrop on conversations, and Flint and Nott aren't the most discreet of your friends." He nipped my earlobe and over my jaw, talking between the small, teasing bites. Each touch burned me, flaming my arousal, making my mind whirl with such force that I could barely hold on to a thought; they flittered through my mind like leaves tossed in the wind, impossible to catch for long enough to examine. "I -what did you call it?- 'weaselled' an invitation from you so we'd have an excuse to be in the same place at the same time outside of work."

His roaming fingers found the edge of my costume along the side and slipped beneath the satin fabric. When he caressed over an unbound nipple, it went instantly taut and achy. My breath hitched in my chest and again my fingernails scraped against the glass at my back. I could feel Potter's knowing smile stretch wide against my throat.

"Granted, I didn't know about the potion. That's been a pleasant surprise," he murmured, continuing tender strokes over my breast, fuelling my desire. Between my legs, I felt sweat dampen my thighs. "I know you've been watching me all night. Your jealousy is as obvious as mine, Draco. You want me, and you're finally letting it show. I know it, you know it. Now I want to hear you say it."

Panic struck as he edged closer to my secrets. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe with him this close. "N-no. Let go of me," I stammered instead and shoved against his shoulder again, but Harry ignored me and wouldn't let up.

"Say it," he demanded, lightly pinching the tiny bud of my breast and slowly plucking it away from my body over and over. "Say it, Malfoy. I want to hear you admit it." His lips trailed an evocative trail across my cheek, over my jaw, and back down my throat to the spot he'd marked me with his teeth. He laved with his soft tongue over the love bite, and a pleasure-filled moan slipped past my lips.

I hated how confused I was, and that I was sure Potter was only doing this because I was in a woman's form. He wasn't gay. He couldn't be. He'd been married to Ginny Weasley. He'd had three children with her. He was Harry _humping_ Potter, everyone's best friend and the poster child for family values and heroism and... and... straight, white teeth or some shite.

...and nipple rings, fetish parties, and leather trousers.

Oh, Merlin, Potter was bi, wasn't he? Just like me.

Which meant-

Shite, but I was going to do it. I was going to finally say the words to him that I'd wanted to for so long. I was going to grab a hold of my small pool of courage and make this happen. Because I knew if I didn't, he'd walk away and we'd never get this chance again. Fate wouldn't be so kind to the likes of me a second time.

"I want to fuck you," I whispered in his ear.

His groan of heightened arousal rumbled through his chest, vibrating against me. "Is there somewhere we can go?" he asked, letting his lips graze over my sensitive, thrumming pulse.

Breathless with lust, I nodded. "My study."

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

_"Colloportus,"_ Potter cast at the door as he set my feet down and closed the door to my study behind us with his heel. _"Muffliato."_

As he assured our privacy, I moved across the room to the hearth and called up magical fire to warm us and to create light to banish the darkness. I felt that excited, hyper-jittery anticipation I'd only known a few times in my life before, like before a Quidditch match back during my school days, or the time I'd lost my virginity. It was a fluttery, queer sensation of being both chilled and too hot at the same time.

His arms smoothed around my middle as he pressed into me from behind. We stood like that for long minutes, neither of us speaking, just getting used to the idea.

"Turn around," he bid, loosening his hold so I could do as he wanted.

This was the final test. If I refused, we wouldn't be going any further. If I did as he wanted, there would be no going back.

Holding my breath, I slowly spun around to face him. My sight ended at the level of his chest as I reached out to grip his hips for purchase. I could feel the warmth of his approving smile without seeing it.

Tilting my chin up with two fingers, he bent his head and pressed his mouth to mine, giving us our first kiss.

I'd never felt a kiss so gentle or filled with such sweetness. The substance of most of my sexual experiences in life had primarily been desperate, fast releases followed by emotionally detached retreats. Romance had never once been a part of that equation, even on my wedding night. It seemed I'd vastly underestimated how good it felt to take such things slow.

His tongue very softly, almost hesitantly parted my lips. With a small, breathy sigh, I opened for him and let my tongue tangle with his. My chest nearly caved at how good he tasted. The smoky, sugary taste of Firewhisky smoothed over my tongue as we entwined. He'd been drinking, too, just like me, and it tasted wonderful. I wanted to drown in that flavour.

He pulled his head back a bit. "Okay?" he whispered against my lips, his trembling fingers stroking over my cheek and into my hair.

"Yes," I sighed, tilting my mouth to his for more.

He gave a small smile. "Good."

Harry Potter spent the next twenty minutes kissing me like I was the most important thing in his world, and finally, _finally_ I felt like I mattered to him, and in the way I'd wanted from the time we were very young. We came fully together, our bodies pressing and fitting like lock and key...

...and it suddenly occurred to me why.

I jerked my head back, breaking the kiss. "Are you doing this because I look like this?"

Confusion greeted the question. "You mean, because you're a chick right now?"

Slowly, I nodded. Under my ribs, my heart was pounding in fear of his answer.

That sinful smirk of his was back, and it brought up my defences with it. "No. I've wanted to do this to you for a long time, most recently since I crashed your dressing room. Thought you could tell."

"Not really," I groused. "You were too busy blackmailing me that day for me to notice anything else."

He gave me a knowing look. "Liar. I saw you eye-fuck my crotch."

I glared at him. He grinned back.

"Arsehole," I accused.

"Prat," he countered. His teasing smile slowly melted away. "Seriously, you want us to wait to shag until the potion wears off?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Taking a lot for granted there, aren't you, Potter?"

A lazy-lidded, seductive grace came over him then, one I'd never suspected he'd had until tonight. His hands smoothed down my spine, teasing the naked sway with soft, gliding caresses. My whole body tightened in response, and I felt a strange slipperiness between my legs. "Answer the question, Draco." His voice was low-pitched and rich, meant to coerce a response from me. "Do you want us to stop and wait until the potion wears off?"

I was finding it hard to breathe again.

If I answered 'yes' the hours in-between might convince me not to follow through with this. I admit I was a coward when it came to certain things, and letting Harry Potter get close was one of them. I was still afraid of rejection from him, and in the face of such a feeling, I was the type to push back in defence, then cut and run. It was a painful truth, but I was old enough now to admit it.

On the other hand, if we shagged, our first time would be me masquerading as a woman. I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but I sure as hell didn't want him to enjoy the idea too much, since this was most likely the only time I'd ever do it looking like this. And what if he decided he wanted it again? What if he decided he preferred me this way?

As if reading the frantic nature of my thoughts, he attempted to distract me by pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. "Calm down," he whispered. "I know you're not really a woman." He pressed his forehead to mine and stared me in the eye. "I know that tomorrow morning you'll look like I've always known you to. I'll still want you then. In case you didn't get it, I go both ways." His fingers stroked over my arse, gripping it tight and pulling it into direct contact with his very hard erection. "The body doesn't matter to me, Draco. It's the person I want."

"It won't matter to you that I'll never look this way again?" I asked in a breathy tone, desperate for him to kiss me again but needing him to say it once more to reassure me.

"No, it doesn't," he stated very firmly. His hands slid up my waist, and he leaned back to look me over, a sly smirk sliding into place again on his face. "Although, I will admit you're bloody hot right now." Mischief sparkled in his eyes. "You make a very pretty girl, Malfoy."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Charming."

His hips bunched and rolled, and he rubbed against my core. "So, want to try it? Might be stunning."

I bit my bottom lip, my belly fluttering with nerves. Could I really do this - have sex as a woman? Shite, when I was younger I'd experimented a lot with Astoria, doing things with her and her friends that could be considered quite perverted. And then there had been all those times with Theo... This would be the most outrageous thing I'd ever done, though.

"If you want to stop at any time, we will," Potter offered. "Just say the word, and we'll wait for the potion to wear off instead." His mouth captured mine again in a quick, wet kiss. "I want you in any way you'll let me have you."

Heart in my throat, I took a deep breath and nodded, giving us permission.

Gods, we were going to do it, weren't we? We were going to cross every line that had ever existed between us and bring down every wall that had separated us. I was worried that this was going to be a big mistake, but I wanted him. I deserved him. I'd waited for him to be all mine for almost two decades.

Tonight, he would be. Even if it was only this one time.

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**TO BE CONTINUED...**

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Yummy stuff coming in next chapter, but this was an important transitional chapter. I'll update the next chappy in a few days, rather than next week, because this one was so short.**

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

Sex as a woman had been bloody _amazing._

The first time had been slow and thorough. After bringing me off with his fingers and tongue, Potter's thick cock had filled me by gradual inches. He'd been extremely considerate of my comfort and pleasure, pausing as I was broken in. Once he'd been seated to the hilt inside me, he'd held us there, forcing me to meet his gaze. When he'd finally begun moving in and out to a leisurely pace, he hadn't looked away. I'd come just like that: staring into his intense green eyes. The sweetly gathered energy that his strokes had built up reached a crescendo, and in a burst of light, rippled outwards from my centre in a warm, ebbing flow. I'd shuddered from head-to-toe, crying out in bliss.

With a few more full strokes, Harry had followed me over, groaning into the bend of my neck and whispering my name.

We'd rested a bit after that. I wasn't sure how long, because I'd fallen asleep in his arms. At some point in the middle of the night, though, I'd been awakened by the feel of him spooning me, his prick already deep inside me and moving. There had been no thought to protest that he'd taken advantage of my sleeping state to have off with me again as he'd recognized I'd come awake and reached around to rub at the tiny, engorged clit at the apex of my pussy. I'd truly come to appreciate that little nub of flesh then, as I'd climaxed again just from those few teasing caresses.

He'd rolled me onto my belly after, and come into me from behind. Leaning on his palms, he'd bent his head to nuzzle my throat, kissing, licking, sucking, and gently biting. _"Too sore for something a little harder?"_ he'd asked, keeping his pace careful and unhurried.

I had been, but I'd also wanted to do as much as I possibly could with him, just in case this was the only time for us, so I'd told him I was fine.

He'd worked us up together in gradual steps to prevent me from being hurt, until we were both coated with a slick sweat and my hips had raised of their own will to meet his quickened downward strokes. That orgasm hit me with all of the power of a thundering locomotive. It had begun as a pressurized, shivering sensation that built and peaked with each thrust, much like a spring coiled tighter and tighter, until finally it released in one blazing hot instant. I'd seen detonations of lights behind my closed lids and I'd screamed in pleasure as I'd come, pressing my face into the cushions of the lounger to hide the tears that were wrung from my eyes.

Harry had slammed into me once, twice more, and then he'd released with a loud shout. I'd felt his hot, wet seed drench my sensitive, still pulsing cunnie and the sensation caused things inside to flutter.

I'd never felt anything so good in my whole life as that second time, and I'd thought it couldn't possibly get any better than that.

Potter had proved me wrong not an hour ago when he'd taken me for the third time, as we closed in on dawn. Or rather, I should say, when I'd taken him. At his urging and his instruction, I'd ridden his cock hard while looking down at him in awe, sure that it wasn't possible for one person to know so much ecstasy in their life. He'd stared up at me with pride and pleasure, coaxing me to have him with naughty words and roaming hands.

_"Fuck me, Draco,"_ he'd urged, pinching my nipples. _"Fuck me like you never want to stop."_

And I had. God, I had. I'd taken us both to the precipice and thrown myself off the edge at the same moment he had. We'd come together crying each other's names.

I'd collapsed into his arms in the afters, and he'd held me to his chest, soothing my emotional vulnerabilities with light touches and small kisses placed to the top of my head.

Now the Polyjuice was wearing off. I could feel its effects reversing as I lay in his arms, tired and thoroughly sated. My body lengthened, my hair shortened, and parts of me reversed. It was the strangest sensation, being turned inside out, as it were.

When it was done, I waited for Potter to say something, my heart in my throat. This was it. If he rejected me...

A gentle hand slid down my waist, over my hip, and caressed between my legs. I groaned as my cock hardened at Harry's exploratory touches, and I turned my face into his chest. He stroked over me, and to my surprise, my body responded with eagerness. I'd thought I couldn't want anymore, but clearly, I was mistaken.

"Nice," he whispered against my temple as he dipped his head and ran a nose through my hair. "You're longer than I'd imagined."

Embarrassed, I nodded. I wasn't as thick as him, but I had an inch or two over him easily.

He cupped my bollocks in a careful palm, rolling and weighing them. I shuddered from the exquisite desire that shot through me.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, rubbing a finger over my perineum.

I moaned. "Yes."

Flipping me onto my back, Potter hovered over me until I opened my eyes and met his gaze. He gave me a naughty, boyish smile. "I've been waiting to do this since the first day your boss assigned you to work with me."

"You have?" I didn't think it possible to be anymore surprised tonight, either. Again, I'd underestimated the effect Harry had on me.

He licked his lips. "Lie back and enjoy."

Sliding down my body, he laved a path with his tongue as he moved. He circled my nipples, gently teasing them with small nips, dipped into my navel, and then his mouth was there, torturously licking around the head of my prick. My fingers sought out his hair and I bunched my hips in a silent demand as he skirted down the length without taking it into his mouth, instead pressing wet suckling kisses along the length as he held it up in a hand.

"Potter," I growled in warning as he lapped over my bollocks.

He chuckled against the soft, thin skin, causing my cock to go even harder between his fingers. With a swipe of his thumb over the head, he coated the reddish-pink tip with my pre-come.

"What do you want me to do to you, Draco?"

"Suck it," I bid in a husky demand. "Suck it good and hard, and swallow my come."

He hummed in pleasure at such crude language and licked straight up the taut length, pausing with his lips so close to the goal. He gifted me with a very wicked, rather un-Harry-like smirk. "Will you reciprocate?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Fuck, but you're over-sexed! The most I've gone is three times in a day."

He licked the tip, swiping over the small slit and I gasped. "I've never done more than twice in one go, but I've never wanted anyone like this before, either. It's you... and I can't seem to stop." He kissed, sucking lightly and flicking me with his tongue, and I shuddered. "I've wanted you for years, Draco, but you never let me get too close. Always keeping me at a distance. What were you afraid of?"

My heart slammed under my ribs at that revelation. "You were married," I reminded him. "I'm still-"

He peeked at me through his lids. "Don't say it. I know," he murmured. "But you don't love her anymore. You said it yourself."

I gasped as his tongue tickled over me again. "No, I don't. Never really did. It was only lust." I sucked in a sharp breath when he very gently used his teeth to scrape under the hood. "Gods, you're fucking good at this."

"You're the reason I realised I'm bi, you know," he admitted, caressing my perineum, circling my back entrance with his fingertip.

I almost laughed at the irony. "Same here."

"I am?"

I stared down at him and nodded.

He suckled the tip of my cock, mouthing it with pressure, but refused to drop lower. I arched my hips a bit to try to slide deeper inside, but he gripped them and prevented me from moving. "How long?" he asked, referring to my admission a moment ago. He licked around the head with lazy, thorough strokes, torturing me in his quest for information.

Bloody Aurors, and their cruel manipulations!

I groaned, squirming under his pinning hands, desperately wanting him to engulf me and start a rhythm that was guaranteed to bring me quickly, but Harry was nothing if stubborn. It soon became clear that he could hold me in this state of desperate wanting, unsatisfied and craving release until I gave him what he wanted.

"You were... my first wet dream," I confessed, cheeks heated with embarrassment at revealing that to him.

His lips tightened and drew harder on me, as if my answer pleased him. It drew a moan from deep within my chest. "Bloody hell, Potter, take me all the way in and suck me already!" I begged, tightening my grip in his coarse, dark hair.

He chuckled again, and I felt that vibration straight to my bollocks. The fire seated in them burned hotter, roaring through my veins as I tipped closer to the edge.

When he finally swallowed me as far down as he could take, I'd realized how completely lost I was to him. I was letting Harry Potter have me in every way he wanted, and I was mindless to stop him now. I wanted this too much, and I knew we'd do this again and again... at any time that he wanted. I was his.

My pelvis tightened and I shook from the power of my mounting orgasm. So close. So bloody close! The suction as he pulled back was mind-blowing, and I cried out, helpless under his expert touch, letting him take me once more to the edge. He dropped back down on me and pulled back in a quick motion, and I gave myself over to the pleasure. My sac drew up into a tight cradle against me and I felt the rush of my semen as it was drawn from deep within me, exploding outward into his moist, hot mouth in pulses of jetting streams. I shouted his name and pulled his head down as far me as he could take, shaking... shaking uncontrollably from head to toe.

In moments, I was done. Exhausted. Blitzed out and so sated, I was floating.

I felt his heat come over me, tasted my own salt on his lips and tongue when he kissed me, and felt him hard and dripping wet against my inner thigh.

"I want to fuck you, just like this," he whispered against my lips. "Have you ever had a man take you?"

I nodded, too tired to lie. "Yes."

He met my gaze, staring into the heart of me. "Will you let me have you like that, too?"

A lazy smirk swept up my chin. "Potter, have I protested once? You've taken me every other way already."

His eyes darkened with lust. "Not every way. Not yet."

_'But I will,'_ was left unspoken.

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_**TO BE CONCLUDED...**_

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_**Author's Notes:**_

_**One chapter left. Please review!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A year later, on Beltane...**_

I stared at the present my lover had bought for me with anticipation fluttering in my belly, and felt a thin sheen of sweet break out across my brow. I swiped a hand across it to get rid of the moisture, feeling my body flush from head to toe with an anxious, lusty tension. Unconsciously, I licked my lips as well.

"I can explain," Harry declared, and I was distinctly taken back to a year ago when I'd last heard those exact same words... and seen this exact same outfit.

"I'm sure you can," I said, recalling his scripted response to my protests at that time.

His chest pressed against my back as his arms came around me. Between the split of my arse, I could feel his steel-hard erection pressing. "I really want to see you wear it," he murmured against my throat as he leaned down and pressed kisses along my neck. "I've waited a long time to have you in this outfit, Draco."

I lifted the green and black babydoll kit between two hands, holding it up to the light. "How did you find it again?"

Harry chuckled, letting his hands roam under my shirt to caress over my navel. "I went back to the store the day after last Beltane and bought it then." He licked a naughty path up my throat and stopped to suckle on my earlobe before continuing his explanation. "I was going to give it to you at Christmas, but then I figured I'd wait for tonight."

I tossed him a narrow-eyed, knowing stare over my shoulder. "I suppose this means that you expect me to shift for you?"

He melted my pants off with his return grin.

I rolled my eyes.

My clever wife had most definitely triumphed in the creation of her variant Polyjuice Potion, as it had achieved its intended goal of allowing for a long-lasting gender-switch. The draught was something not even those in my department at work had been able to accomplish, and they'd been trying to replicate the formula since last Beltane. It was a nearly perfect recipe for allowing a smooth transition... with only one, small side-effect: a permanent ability to change genders at will.

At first, that little effect had been wildly popular among the pureblood _Haute Ton_, stimulating most of our social circle into a buying frenzy for Astoria's brew. It seemed everyone was in love with the idea of trying out life on the other side of the fence. However, when Pansy Parkinson had managed to get Blaise Zabini up the duff that way, people's ardour cooled mighty fast. The situation had worked out great for Pans, who had never wanted to carry a child, but had wanted kids someday, and who had further wanted to snag Zabini for her husband. Not so much for Blaise, though, who found he couldn't change back into a man until after the birth of little Allessandro. He'd had to experience all nine months of the glory that is pregnancy, including the beautiful agony that is natural childbirth.

I frequently thanked Merlin, Circe, and Andros the Invincible that I'd had the common sense to leave my charmed bracelet on that first night I'd fucked Potter.

"Think you can buy me off with a fist full of lace, like I'm an easy bit of totty?" I gave an undignified snort. "Not in this lifetime, Potter."

Harry knew well enough by now that this was all a part of our usual sexual repertoire: I would deny him any request he made, and he would pursue. Like any good, former Seeker, he loved the chase. Right then, my lover was practically vibrating with excitement as the game commenced.

"I'll buy you emeralds and diamonds," he teased, thinking to appeal to my greed.

"I have vaults of them," I countered.

He snuggled closer, pressing his erection between my arse cheeks and shoving his hands down the front of my trousers. His fingers stroked over my cock, and a groan was torn from between my lips. "I'll lick your pussy through at least two orgasms," he bargained, knowing that was my favourite thing for us to do when I was in 'girl form'. The feel of his soft tongue caressing over my clitoris... I never failed to peak hard and repetitively when he did that to me.

"What else?" I gasped as he cupped my bollocks and rolled them exactly as I liked. "If I'm going to change so I can properly wear this, I'll have to shave again. I want more for my trouble," I bargained.

Nimble, well-practiced fingers made quick work of my clothing, even as Harry's mouth latched onto me at various places, nibbling and sucking the tender spots of my body. "I'll come inside you," he offered as he got on his knees to take off my socks and shoes.

Blood boiling at the thought, I capitulated at last. "You're secretly the evilest wizard alive," I pronounced around a moan as he took the head of my prick between his lips and sucked hard, humming in agreement around my heated, wet flesh.

The teasing was short lived, however. With a pop, Harry let me go and got to his feet. "I've changed my mind," he murmured, lifting me in his arms and carrying me over to the bed. He tossed me down onto the mattress and towered over me. "I think I want you _au natural_ tonight."

As he began stripping his clothing off, I wiped the sweat of anticipation from above my lip, raised my eyes to meet his emerald gaze, and silently surrendered to him.

Oh, yes, Harry Potter definitely had me.

But then, he always had.

**_~FIN~_**

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**AUTHOR'S FINAL NOTES:**

**Thus concludes this jaunt into Gender-bending!Draco / SexyAuror!Harry's romance (my first time shipping this couple). No sequel planned. I like it where it ended, and I think the story is now complete.**

**I hope you enjoyed the journey, dear readers! It was great fun to write this challenge, and I hope my recipient for the fest & all of you liked it. Please leave me a review and let me know, yeah? :)**


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